Angel
by eglantine16
Summary: Bella is a librarian who is in need of funds to pay off college loans. And what better way to make a buck than to become a Victoria's Secret model? All human. On hiatus.
1. Chapter 1

**Angel**

**

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**_Bella is a librarian who is in need of funds to pay off college loans. And what better way to make a buck than to become a Victoria's Secret model? All human._

Disclaimer: If I owned Twilight, I wouldn't bother writing about it. Instead, I'd use my earnings from the Saga to have a mad scientist bring Edward to life for me.

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**A/N:** As some of you know, I'm not one for AU or OOC unless the characters are all human. Therefore, I present to you my first attempt at a human characterization of these people who have taken over my mind and forced me to put them in crazy situations. =) Also, I know very well that there are lots of Bella-and-the-girls-are-pretty-models stories out there…this is not one of those. I am not taking another fanfiction author's ideas…everything you read here is of my own concoction, and I have tried to make it as realistic and Stephenie Meyer-like as possible.

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**Chapter 1**

**BPOV**

Most people think it's weird to want to live in a library. I always thought it would be terribly romantic to be surrounded by literature twenty-four-seven. Until the idea almost became reality, that is. Then it got a little scary. Even though I loved my books, I was already with them overtime as it was. Working the longest hours that the library would allow still didn't pay enough; but then, I'd known that when I'd chosen to study English Lit at Chicago State University.

I'd chosen English, not because I wanted to write or edit or be a journalist; I'd chosen it because I liked to read. Now that I thought back on the last 4 years of my life, it seemed pretty stupid. A love of the classics was all good and well, but it didn't feed you. Or pay the rent. I could have been a teacher. But I didn't like that either. And at this point, when being paid a librarian's salary was proving to lack the funds I needed to pay off my college debts, I was seriously considering going back to school to get a teaching degree.

That wouldn't help, though. It would only make the hole I was drowning in that much bigger. More loans to pay off…and that was _not_ what I needed right now.

I sat in my branch of the Chicago Public Library on a Friday afternoon, contemplating this. For a millisecond, I paused in my work to consider asking Charlie for some money. Shaking my head, I punched myself mentally for even thinking about it. There was no way I was going to dip into my dad's meager retirement fund.

Maybe I could take a second job. I would have to, eventually, to be able to stay in my apartment. _Waitressing? Baby-sitting? Tutoring?_ I sighed, and pushed the pile of books that needed cataloging away from me. I'd exhausted those options during my college career already.

"Bella!" an urgent whisper demanded my attention. I looked up over the rim of my reading glasses to see Alice Brandon, my best friend, who was saving my wallet's ass by being my room-mate.

"What is it?" I whispered back, sending a glance towards my boss's office door. It was cracked open slightly, and I could see that she was working on the computer, which was lucky for Alice. Cindy was a bitch, but she was the head librarian and library coordinator, and boss of everybody that worked here. Alice had crossed the "loud-line" too many times in Cindy's eyes, and I'd been warned as to her appearance in the library during my shifts.

Alice leaned over the counter and her blue eyes sparkled. "I've got the perfect solution for all of your problems. Can you leave?"

I looked at my watch. "I still have an hour left before my shift is over."

Alice bounced up and down, looking more and more like a black-haired Tinker Bell. "Pull a Mike, and let's get out of here."

I sighed, dropping my head into my hands. Mike Newton's family was Chicago's foremost donator to the Public Library system. They believed in preserving knowledge, which was fine by me. The world needs more people like that. The only problem was the Alice and I had gone to college with Mike.

Mike Newton…there are only so many words to describe that boy; the first two that come to mind are _annoying_ and _insistent_.

To make a long story short, Mike was in love with me. Or rather, he fancied himself to be. He'd be pursuing me ever since my freshman year, and had a hard time taking "no" for an answer. We ended up going out all of _one_ time, and that horrendous evening secured my job here at the library. At least he was good for something.

Alice despised the little rich brown-noser as much as I did, but she was far more willing to use him to get what she wanted. She was constantly prodding me to slip his name in while talking to Cindy in order to get days off, get an extra lunch hour, and the like. I was loathe to do so, since I already felt guilty for taking advantage of the fact that he liked me just to get this job.

Alice felt no such guilt. _Alice has no shame._

"Just do it, Swan. I have a meeting at 3 o'clock with a client, and I can't be late!"

Glancing at the clock on the wall again, I finally nodded. It was very hard to refuse Alice when she gave me that look.

Pushing back my chair, I crept over to Cindy's office, and knocked timidly. "What?" she asked, irritated.

"Cindy, I was just wondering if I could pick up the next hour of my shift some other time," I asked.

She raised her obviously penciled-in eyebrow, and looked back at her game of computer solitaire. "Why?"

I fumbled for an answer, and was blessed by remembering that Mike had called me last night—needless to say, I had pressed 'ignore' on my cell.

"I need to call Mike. It may be urgent, and I don't know how long it will take me," I smoothed my words over.

Cindy turned to look at me again, a new light in her beady little eyes. "Mike…Mr. Newton?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She grinned like a schoolgirl. "Sure honey, you can make that hour up anytime you like. Tell Mr. Newton that we miss him down here. He ought to visit more often."

I conceded, and made a quick exit. After clocking out and gathering my things, Alice dragged me to the parking lot. "See how easy that was?" she said, leading me towards her bright yellow Porsche.

I frowned. I didn't like lying, even to Cindy.

"Um—where are we going, Ali? And why can't I take my own car?" I looked longingly at my familiar old red truck as she continued to pull me towards her idea of God's gift to the automotive industry.

"We're going home, where I can show you your opportunity! And it will take you forever to get there in that God-damn hunk of metal you call a vehicle," she insisted.

Rolling my eyes, I gave in, and slid onto the smooth leather passenger seat of the Porsche.

It only took us ten minutes to get to our apartment, and the entire way, Alice refused to answer any of my questions, always giving the same answer. "Bella, patience is a virtue."

We finally arrived, and I got out of the car the second that it came to a stop. Alice drove too quickly for my taste.

She dragged me to the door, and shoved me inside. Alice did a lot of pushing, dragging, and shoving when it came to me. I put up with it because I loved her. If it were any other person, I would have protested the violation of my personal space.

I fell to the couch, a little disgruntled. "What is this about, Ali?"

She sat down next to me, and pulled a manila folder out of her giant, oversized purse that could have served as a small suitcase in any emergency. "I went to work today," she said, opening the folder, and pulling out some papers.

"Okay, now I'm confused," I admitted, crossing my arms and leaning back against the old faded fabric cover of our ancient sofa.

Alice was an aspiring interior designer, under contract with a company here in Chicago. They didn't get too much local business, but instead catered to the wealthy, and were known as being the launching point for many fledgling designers straight out of college who had shown some exceptional talent. Alice was one of these, and had been offered a job there before she'd even graduated. While interior design was not her first choice of professions, it paid well, and she _was_ good at it.

"Just calm down, okay? It will all make sense in a minute," she scolded me, shuffling through the papers. "Now, guess who came into the office today!"

I shrugged. "I dunno."

"Well guess, silly!"

_Sigh_.

"Smokey the Bear."

"No. Carolina Jensen!"

I studied Alice's shoes. Stilettos.

"Who's that?"

She gaped at me, her hand reaching out to grasp mine. "Bella, really! I've told you all about her, don't you remember? She's one of the leading patrons of Victoria's Secret."

"Oh, yeah…" I nodded, recognizing the name now. "Okay. What about her?"

Alice had located the precise paper she'd been looking for, and held it up for my inspection, a gleam in her eyes. "She told me that the modeling company where Victoria's Secret gets most of their girls, Elite, is having a walk-in interview next week. Usually you have to send in some professional pictures, but I guess the Chicago branch is in need of some new faces. It's perfect for you!" Alice dropped the paper in my lap triumphantly.

I didn't even bother looking at it, and a sarcastic laugh escaped me. "Really, Ali, do you know me at all? I could never be a model!"

Her face fell, and she tapped the paper. "Oh, come on, Bells, just read this! It's important. They have open calls once a day, Monday through Friday, but this is different. This is _specific_."

I picked up the paper, slouching further into the couch cushions. I restrained another laugh.

"_Read_ it," she ordered me.

I gave it a cursory glance, and certain words caught my eye. I looked again.

**No experience needed. Brunettes preferred.**

There was some other information, but I raised my eyes to Alice. "Is this for real?" I asked.

She nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! It's a God-send, I tell you. You have the perfect face for a model, and you don't need any experience! And geez, all the _money_ you could make, Bella! Your loans would be paid off in no time! And just think, what if Victoria's Secret hires you? Then you'd get to be in their fashion shows, and you'd get all this publicity, and you'd probably get discounts on their stuff…you could totally hook us up!"

I shook my head a little. I'd been told all my life that I was pretty enough to model, but I'd never believed a word of it. Guys like Mike Newton used that line to get into girls' pants. "I don't know, Ali. This field is so competitive, and I'm not even that pretty. Besides, don't models have to know how to strut down the runway? I can't even walk in a straight line without falling down."

Alice pursed her lips as she thought this over. "I could teach you. Besides, models don't walk straight, they _move._ And your balance isn't all that bad when you're concentrating. You did take ballet when you lived with your mom, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah, but that was when I was a little kid, Alice. I don't remember anything—" I protested, despite the fact that the idea was slowly growing on me.

"That stuff is like riding a bike. You never forget," she told me with a tone of finality in her voice.

"I can't ride a bike without getting a bruise."

"God, Bella, do you want to earn more money or not? You've got nothing to lose by going to this interview," she insisted, jumping to her feet, and throwing the folder on the coffee table. She turned on me, her hands on her hips.

I frowned, trying to push the enticing idea away from my mind.

"Bella…" her voice softened. "I have a feeling about this. I just…I just know that it'll work! And it doesn't have to be forever if you don't want. Just long enough to get some cash to pay off those debts."

My eyes met hers, and I exhaled, giving up the fight. When Alice had a _feeling_ about anything, she was usually right. She had this crazy sixth-sense type of thing going on.

She grinned her best Cheshire Cat grin, and threw herself at me, peppering my cheek with three perfunctory kisses. "Yes! Thank you for listening to me, Bells. You won't regret this, I _promise_."

I glanced at the paper again. **Wear little to no makeup**_**. **_Well, that would be easy, since I usually didn't wear much to begin with.

Alice snatched the paper from me, and turned it over. "Okay, the interview is Wednesday morning, at 8 a.m., at 58 W. Huron Street. 'Dress Casually'? Dammit. I was hoping to get you into that buttercup yellow dress I got. And those china-white heels! Oh, goodness."

I gave a sigh of relief that Alice wasn't going to have too much say in my apparel. She had a wonderful taste in fashion, but she was always trying to get me into these four inch death traps.

"Uh, oh…" I paused as something occurred to me. "Alice, are they going to make me wear high heels?"

"Of course, silly," she rolled her eyes at me as she started to put all the folders away in her monster bag.

"This will never work," I shook my head. "Don't you remember prom? That was disastrous!"

As Alice laughed, my thoughts drifted back to the night of our senior prom, at Forks High. Alice had picked out a really nice lavender dress for me that I had actually approved of. I'd even talked her out of crazy shoes, opting for the infinitely safer ballet flats. Everything had been going smoothly, until a box arrived at our front door on the night of the prom. It was from my mother: a pair of 3 ½ inch heels with sparkly flowers draped all over them. They were ridiculous, but Alice loved them, and forced me to at least try them on. I'd ended up falling down the stairs and spraining my ankle.

Unfortunately, I hadn't realized the extent of the damage until later, and had attempted to go to the dance anyway. It didn't work out so well.

"It's not funny," I chided her.

Alice's laughs subsided, and she grinned sheepishly. "I'm sorry, I know it's not. But the look on Eric's face when you accidentally kicked Coach Clapp in the face was _priceless_."

I pursed my lips, remembering. Coach Clapp had noticed me hobbling around in misery, and had sat me down to look at the injury. He'd knelt in front of me, and as he tried to feel the bone, he'd accidentally tickled the bottom of my foot. I kicked him. Unintentionally, of course. But I broke his nose. Unintentionally. I sort of saw it as divine retribution for the four years of painfully embarrassing P.E. he'd put me through.

I got up and started to pace in circles around the small living room. "Watch, I'll probably end up breaking someone else's nose if I get this job. Or I'll break my leg, or something."

"Bella, I really mean it! I have a very good impression about this. Please, just trust me," her blue eyes deepened with meaning, and then brightened. "Would you feel better if we practiced walking in heels?"

Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed my hand and dragged me to her closet. I let her pull me, a little curious myself to see if with some dedication, I could pull this off. As much as I'd always hated the idea of modeling, for some reason it called to me now. Despite my hesitation and my fear of my clumsiness ruining everything, Alice was right. There was a _feeling_.

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**A/N:** I know this first chapter is really short, but I had to set things up…so what do you think? Don't worry, Edward and the rest of the gang will make their appearances very soon. If you have any suggestions or comments, please let me know.

Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. And reviews are lovely. =)

I still haven't decided on a definite updating schedule for this yet, as most of my time is still being put into "Vampire Goddess." For the time being, however, I'm thinking that I'll try to put up a new chapter at least once a week.

Also, if you want any information on Elite Model Management, please visit www(dot)elitemodel(dot)com. And if you want to read up on VS, you can just google it.

I'm going to post a playlist, as well as additional information, for this story on my website, www(dot)scatteredstardust16(dot)webs(dot)com. There is also a much nicer synopsis there.

Thank you for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Angel**

**

* * *

**_Bella is a librarian who is in need of funds to pay off college loans. And what better way to make a buck than to become a Victoria's Secret model? All human._

Disclaimer: If I owned Twilight, I wouldn't bother writing about it. Instead, I'd use my earnings from the Saga to have a mad scientist bring Edward to life for me.

* * *

**A/N: **Just a note: I am not affiliated with Elite Model Management or with Victoria's Secret in any way. I do not know any of the real-life people mentioned, and there are many here whom I have made up. Please do not take this information verbatim. Thanks. Oh, and Cruella de Vil belongs to Disney, I believe. =)

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**Chapter 2**

**APOV**

Wednesday morning arrived, and Bella had made quite a bit of progress, if you ask me. I'd practiced walking in high heels with her all weekend, and Monday and Tuesday as well, when she wasn't at work. Luckily, she had Wednesdays free, so we didn't have to worry about talking to Cindy again. Although I had no qualms about lying, Bella was always bothered by it.

Well, 'bothered' wasn't quite the right word...she positively abhorred lying. She only did it in dire circumstances, or when I threatened to tell Mike that she was in love with him too. _Ha. _That one worked every time.

Although I must admit that I never understood why she could hardly bring herself to lie to Cindy. Cindy was a horrible woman who refused to give Bella more hours at the library, even though they were understaffed most of the time. There was a rule as to how many hours a Chicago Public Library employee could work, it's true; but you'd think that someone with Bella's expertise in literature would get a break when it came to a measly little rule like that.

I shook the thoughts away, concentrating on the present. If this interview worked out, Bella could finally make the money she deserved. Then she could buy the Chicago Library and fire Cindy, if she wanted. Well, maybe that was stretching the possibilities a little…but it sure sounded good to me.

I adjusted a lock of Bella's hair as it flowed down her back. I'd sat her down at the vanity table in my room to make sure that she looked presentable. The flyer had said some nonsense about 'little to no makeup,' but that didn't mean that I couldn't put a little bit of powder on her cheeks, and a hint of liner around her big brown eyes. There was no need for blusher, of course, because Bella's cheeks were always tinged pink anyway.

And while I was at it, there was no harm in smoothing her hair, and fiddling with her naturally wavy tresses. If it weren't for the fact that I was perfectly satisfied with my spiky black hairdo, I would have been very jealous of Bella's. Her hair wasn't exactly straight, but it wasn't exactly curly either. I thought that it was just perfect, and it fell to the middle of her back, nearly to her waist. She'd left it down today, figuring that the natural look was better than a hairspray riddled mess. While I would have loved to have played with it, and put it with combs or pins, I had to admit that it looked good just the way it was.

"Stand up," I instructed, turning her around to face me. I had to make sure that her outfit, as casual as it was, looked perfect. She'd picked out a pair of artfully torn jeans that fit her to a tee, and had paired them with a blue top that looked comfortable without being tacky. I'd convinced her to wear a pair of dark blue two-inch heels, even though the shoes we'd been practicing with were four-inches. I didn't want her to trip and fall due to nervousness on the first day.

Bella bit her lip—her most noticeable habit—and looked down at herself. "How does it fit?" she asked.

"Like a second skin, without making you look like a tramp," I surmised. I offered her a confident smile, and brushed a piece of lint off of her shoulder. "I think that silky scarf would go great with this, and…" I glanced out of my bedroom window, "I don't think you'll need a jacket. The windy city doesn't look so windy today."

My best friend nodded, returning my grin. She was still panicky, I could tell. It wasn't very hard to see, since her face was pretty much an open book. But lingering behind the worry in her eyes was an emotion that I could only label as excitement. Deep down inside, hiding somewhere, there was a different, more secure, less accident-prone Bella, just waiting for the opportunity to come out. I knew that she couldn't be so gorgeous for nothing.

**BPOV**

My hands were shaking as I waited for the elevator. I'd arrived at the Elite Model Management building about ten minutes early, just in case. The morning air was still chilly, but I didn't notice, so warm was my body with worry and a slight bit of dread.

Another girl appeared next to me, looking up at the numbers above the elevator. She gave an exasperated sigh, and pressed the 'up' button repeatedly. I withheld a sigh of my own. I'd never understood why people insisted on harassing the poor elevator buttons. It wasn't going to make the machine work any faster. If anything, the button might get jammed.

I snuck a better look at the girl, and decided that she was on her way to the interview as well. She was tall, with short russet hair styled into a pageboy cut, which was longer on the sides than in back. This was the latest fashion, reminiscent of the twenties look. I thought that it was something that only looked good on certain people, and had recently talked Alice out of letting her hair grow so that she could try it.

The elevator finally arrived, and a rush of people exited before the girl and I got on. I wondered vaguely what so many people were doing in an office building at 7:50 in the morning, but my thoughts swiftly returned to my impending doom. Despite my inner longings to discover my potentials in this world so different from my own, I still had a sense of apprehension. This was not something that the normal, sane Bella Swan would do. This was putting clumsy old me out on a limb, where I would probably trip and embarrass myself terribly. But Alice was completely right about that feeling, so I might as well give it a try. I had learned long ago not to bet against Alice.

The woman sighed, and leaned a little to the left, changing her posture. The elevator apparently wasn't moving quickly enough for her, even though it was making my stomach lurch uncomfortably. I looked at her again. She was what most men would call sexy, and what most women would envy, although I found her face a little too chiseled for my own personal taste. Her cheekbones had a resemblance to Cruella de Vil's, or so I thought.

She glanced at me, and sniffed the air, almost like she smelled something unpleasant. Her eyes met mine, and I flushed, as usual, although I knew full well that I smelled just fine. In fact, I smelled pretty damn good, thank you very much. I'd borrowed Alice's best Oscar de la Renta perfume, and it was positively divine.

She raised a stylized eyebrow, blinking rapidly. _Wear contacts much_?

Thankfully, the elevator reached the tenth floor just then, so her haughty perusal was interrupted. We were obviously going to the same place, but I tried to walk just a little bit faster than her, so that I wouldn't have to look at her angular Cruella face.

***

After twenty minutes of waiting, I began to wonder if any of this was worth it. More and more girls had piled into the small waiting room, to which we had been directed, each of them brunette, and all of them far more beautiful than I. They all gave me odd glances, and I wondered if I had a piece of toilet paper stuck to the bottom of my shoe. Maybe my clothes screamed _librarian!_, or maybe they could just tell by looking at me that I wasn't exactly model material.

Just as I was summoning the courage to stand up and walk out in front of their curious, intruding eyes, the door to the inner office opened. The secretary at the desk across from me stood up, and said, "Miss Burns will see you all now."

_All of us_?

We stood and made our way to the door, where a middle-aged woman stood holding it open. _Ah_…this was the famous Miss Jennifer Burns; she had inherited Elite's Chicago branch from her mother, Jane Stewart, who had helped start the company back in the 70s. I smothered a smile. Alice would have killed simply to be in the same room as this woman.

We filed in, and stood around, wondering what to do. I could tell that many of the girls who had looked so confident in the waiting area were now just as shy and unsure as I was. I bit my lip.

"Line up." The order came from Miss Burns in a deadpan tone of voice, and all of us struggled to quickly form a line in front of her. I ended up somewhere in the middle of the hastily formed row of about twenty girls, and tried to stand up straight, as Alice had taught me over the weekend.

_Bang!_ The door slammed as Miss Burns threw it shut. She tucked a strand of dark blonde hair behind an ear, and appraised us with a scowl. Not sure if I was supposed to me her gaze in an assertive manner, or look down submissively, I settled on staring at the photograph over her left shoulder. It was a huge black and white picture that covered nearly the entire wall. It was the kind of photograph that one would find in a Victoria's Secret store, or in a spread in Vogue magazine. It made sense, of course, because this _was_ a modeling agency, but it still caught me little bit off guard. Even though I was by no means an addict to the fashion world, I recognized several of the girls posing in the picture. I didn't know their names of course, but their faces I found to be familiar.

Miss Burns stood in front of us with her arms crossed. She began to pace back and forth, looking over each and every one of us. When she came to me, she paused; I shifted my eyes a little, meeting her gaze. Her eyes were sky blue, and very hard, almost like steel. She stared at me, and I stared back for a moment before my face flooded with color. But her eyes held mine with a power I didn't understand, and I couldn't look away, even though I wanted to very much.

Eventually, she moved on down the line, and paused twice more in front of different girls. An eerie silence filled the room as all the models grew increasingly uncomfortable. At this point, I was through, and more than ready to flee the room.

Miss Burns coughed, drawing my attention back to her. She stood in front of us again, her arms behind her back this time. "You're all very pretty," she said, her voice possessing a little more color than it had a moment ago. "But only three of you are what we're looking for at this moment in time. Please, be sure to send in some pictures at a later date and perhaps we could use you…" she paused, and her eyes landed on me again. I shivered. _Damn it_. I was positive she was going to dismiss me first. The plainest girl.

But instead, she pointed at Cruella. "Goodbye," she said. The stuck-up girl groaned, and headed for the door. "As for the rest of you," Miss Burns pointed at a woman on my right side, "all out except for _you_…"

The girl on my right visibly relaxed, and took a step back to distinguish herself from the rest of the line.

Miss Burns moved her eyes to another model, whose hair was so dark a shade of brown that it almost looked black. "…and _you_…"

And then she looked at me. "And _you_."

I looked to the girls on both sides of me, sure that she had been pointing at one of them. Surely she hadn't been pointing at me! But the girls on my sides quickly left the room, eager to exit the stiff atmosphere. I stood there like a dunce, with Miss Burns staring at me, her icy blue eyes boring holes in me. My face flushed again, and I tried to concentrate on anything but her.

"You three," she said, moving to sit behind her large mahogany desk. "Come stand here."

I exchanged hesitant glances with the dark haired girl, who gave me a hint of a smile. The first model that had been told to stay was on my other side, and when I tried to look at her, she gave a small groan of disbelief. Her hair was more auburn than brunette, and she had the same arrogant look about her as Cruella had.

We ended up in front of the desk, with me in the middle again, as Fate would have it. Miss Burns cleared her throat, and started to fiddle with a black pen that mysteriously appeared in her hands. She smiled up at us, which caught me by surprise. She actually looked quite nice when she wasn't trying to scare the shit out of you.

"You three. Give me your names, please," she asked in a much nicer tone of voice.

Arrogant Auburn spoke first. "Heather McCloud—Larson, ma'am."

Miss Burns raised her pale eyebrows. "McCloud—Larson? Is your mother Jessica McCloud?"

Heather gave a tittering giggle. "Yes. Do you know her?"

Miss Burns' eyebrows promptly fell. "No, I'm glad to say. I assume you have pictures with you. Please leave them with my secretary. Don't call us, we'll call you."

Obviously shocked at being so promptly dismissed, Heather left the room in an angry huff.

"And you?" It took me a moment to realize she was addressing me, and I blushed.

"Bella Swan. Ma'am."

"Bella. Bella indeed," she twirled the pen in an artful blur. "Is that short for something?"

"Yes; Isabella."

"But you prefer your nickname, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am…" I hesitated a little. Was there something wrong with going by one's nickname in the modeling business?

"Hmm…what about you?" she turned to the other girl.

"Camille Lindbergh, Miss Burns."

"Well, Camille, Bella…the two of you are precisely what this company needs at this point in time. Granted, this is not how we would conduct a normal interview, but then again, these are not normal circumstances." She swiveled in her chair, and scribbled our names down on a piece of paper. "We'll begin with a runway walk to see how you fare, and then we'll go straight to a photo shoot later in the week. Victoria's Secret is looking for a new runway girl, and one of you might get that position," she stood up, straightening her stylish skirt.

We both watched her as she walked towards the wall with the photograph. Turning around, she put her hands on her hips again, her blue eyes reverting to that cold, calculating look. "Camille, come towards me please, as though you were on the cat-walk."

Camille immediately strutted across the room, swaying her hips provocatively. My mind groaned. There was no way that I could match that! Camille stopped just a few feet short of Miss Burns, and put her hand on her hip before turning promptly on her heel, and walking back to me.

Miss Burns smiled. "Very nice, Camille. Have you done runway before?"

"Yes, Miss Burns."

"I thought so. Lovely. Very well, please leave your information with my secretary, and we'll email you the date, place, and time for the photo shoot."

A grateful smile broke across Camille's beautiful face. "Oh thank you so much, Miss Burns."

As Camille left the office, I let out a sigh of relief: one less person to embarrass myself in front of. "Bella Swan…" I looked up to meet Miss Burns' gaze.

"Yes, ma'am?" my voice was shaky.

"Please walk."

I took a shaky breath, and my pulse sped up. _Please don't fall. Please don't fall. Please don't fall._

Pushing away all thoughts except those that involved putting one foot in front of the other, I began to make my way forward. Alice was a good teacher; I'd learned how to strut rather quickly, although there was still the occasional trip. I copied Camille, putting my hand on my hip before turning back towards the desk.

"That's enough," said Miss Burns.

I stopped midstride and almost fell as a result, catching myself just seconds before making a fool out of myself. I turned to face her quickly. "I'm sorry Miss Burns, I'm just a little clumsy. I can get better, though, really I can—" I said, a little unsure as to why I was protecting myself. Did I really want this job?

But to my surprise, Miss Burns had a smile on her face, but it wasn't the kind I had been expecting. I was used to seeing and hearing people laugh at me when I looked stupid, or whenever I tripped, but her grin was genuinely kind.

"Bella, you're very beautiful. I've rarely seen anyone like you, and quite frankly, I'm sure that we'll be able to get you that job with Victoria's Secret. You need a bit of practice walking, that's true, but you have a certain…innocence in your face. I'm not sure how to describe it." She shook her head a little as I flushed pinkly. "This is exactly the image that this year's models need. America is getting back to that sexy-yet-pure girl-next-door idea, and you're just perfect for that. We're all awash with gorgeous blondes with skinny legs and anorexic bodies, but you're something fresh. Yes, this is just perfect!"

I stammered out something that was most likely a thank-you, although to be honest, my mind was quite blank. _Is she really talking to me_?_ This must be a dream._

Next thing I knew, I was answering questions as to my education, and my experiences with fashion and photography. I can't even recall what I said.

Before I could even register it, Miss Burns had instructed me to address her as Jennifer, and then a contract was sitting in front of me. Going with my instinct, and the memory of Alice's premonition, I signed it.

Then in a blur of bright yellow measuring tapes and white-tipped sewing pins, I was being measured by Jennifer and her secretary for the outfit that I would take my pictures in the following day. I got jabbed and squeezed, but I didn't care. My brain was trying to figure the whole thing out.

_Did I really just sign a contract with Elite Model Management?_

_Yes, Bella, you did._

_I'm a model._

_Hell, yes._

_I'm going to make such an idiot of myself. What am I doing here? I should just leave._

_No, you crazy girl! Stay put. Let them measure you. This is a dream come true! You'll get the money you need, plus be involved in photography, which you love anyway._

_Yeah, but what happens if I get trapped in this world? I have to be skinny, I have to walk in front of people, and I'll probably have to be scantily clad._

_So? You have the body for it. Besides, Alice had a good feeling about this. This could totally be your Cinderella story, honey!_

_Ugh, I am not talking to myself._

_Yes you are._

_Grr, shut up!_

Shaking off the voices in my head (granted, they were both mine…one belonged to the unsure side of me, and one to the crazy side—the girl who actually wanted this chance), I eventually made my way out of Jennifer's office, with all of the information I needed for the photo shoot.

I hesitated as I exited the tall building. Chicago had awakened during the interview, and the streets bustled with cars and pedestrians. I turned this way and that, trying to remember where I'd parked my truck. Oh, that's right. In the parking garage across the street.

As I stepped of the curb, I heard a loud honk. _Shit!_ My head turned swiftly to the right. A taxi was headed straight for me, its driver waving his hand furiously, telling me to move.

My mind, overwhelmed what I had just gone through, was frozen in shock. I was about to be run over by a car. So much for my modeling career…I tried to move my legs, but they were frozen too! My breath hitched in my lungs, paralyzing me. I couldn't move.

Then something wrapped around my waist, and promptly hauled me out of the way. I tried to scream, but my vocal chords weren't working either. The car zoomed past, the driver shouting curses at me through the open passenger window.

A soft voice met my ear just as I realized that it was someone's strong arm that had saved my life. "Are you all right?" it asked in a very sexy, masculine tone.

"I—I…" I turned a little bit in the man's protective embrace, trying to gather my thoughts so that I could properly thank him. I was unprepared for the sight that met my eyes.

My savior was tall, with a perfect physique. His face was devastatingly handsome, topped by a mop of unruly bronze hair. His eyes, a bright clear green, met my muddy brown ones in concern. "Are you okay?" he reiterated in a voice that positively made me melt

And melt I did. The world around me turned black, and the last thing I felt were his strong arms hoisting me off of the ground before I fainted into a crumpled heap on the filthy Chicago sidewalk.

* * *

**A/N:** Okay…I really don't like how this chapter turned out, and I'm very sorry. It just didn't flow, but I had to get the information out before continuing, so there you go. I hope it wasn't too bad. Can you guess who her rescuer was? Hmm? =)

Reviews are great. I live for them. And many thanks to all of you who have already read and reviewed, and put me on alert. Y'all rock.


	3. Note

Sorry guys, this is just an author's note. I basically stopped posting these, but I wasn't sure how many of you were aware that I now post my notes on livejournal...

At any rate, I just wanted to let you know that this story is not abandoned! It's only on haitus until I finish Vampire Goddess. I hope you trust me. =)

We will meet our lovely model Bella again, I swear.

ttyl,

Natalie


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